


Absolutely Unattainable

by Stasia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2011-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stasia/pseuds/Stasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A casual joke alters a long-term friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Unattainable

Severus stood against the silk-papered wall of the Ministry Ball Room and watched as other attendees of the latest Ministry Gala swirled around on the dance floor, filling the room with bursts of color and laughter. He’d come to every single one of these damned events after the War, and his subsequent acquittal, in a determined attempt to be re-instated in Wizarding society.

It had been slow going, at first; he’d had to be exceptionally careful while in public for the first year or so after the War. However, the next year had been easier on him, and there had been steady customers at his apothecary. He’d even had customers who didn’t come from the darkest parts of Knockturn. By now, the third year after the War, his business was thriving enough for him to have hired staff to take care of the customers and more basic special orders. This allowed him to be able to spend a refreshing amount of time working on refining and creating potions.

He was more content with his life than he had ever expected to be. Not that he expected to live through the War at all. He looked down at the full plate in his hands. _I don’t really deserve to have the life I have now,_ he thought bitterly, then winced as he heard Albus’ oft-repeated, “You are one of the heroes, my dear boy, and you deserve any joy you get.” _I still miss you, you frustrating old man._

The sounds of approaching laughter made him look up again and he saw a large group coming towards the laden buffet tables he was standing near. Once he saw who was in the group, he sneered to himself. The youngest Weasley, the girl, was leading the movement and the sight of who was holding her arm made Severus flinch. Potter, _Harry_ , a traitorous part of himself whispered, was squiring the young girl around. He smiled down at her, his green eyes wide and happy. Severus turned away.

He found a quiet balcony and stepped outside, leaving the doors open to the Ball Room. Moving to the side of the balcony, he set his plate down and breathed in the chill air, wishing that he could chill the part of himself that heated every time he saw the son of his oldest enemy. It was unseemly, and idiotic, to be so attracted to something so absolutely unattainable. However, his wretched luck seemed to be holding, and the one thing that was least likely to ever happen to him was the one thing that he burned most to have.

He had an odd friendship with Harry. He closed his eyes, letting the winter evening’s cold soothe his overheated face. He was always careful to address Harry as ‘Potter’ when they spoke, but when he was alone, and in the privacy of his own head, he called the boy ‘Harry’. Sometimes, and he felt his face heating again just at the barest memory, he imagined calling the younger man other names, more private names.

He still didn’t know why Harry had approached him after the trial. He’d been forced to be in the courtroom because he’d been a witness, but Severus was deeply confused by the younger wizard’s appearance in the hall, after he’d been acquitted. Harry had simply shown up, swept him off to a fancy dinner at a new small restaurant off of Diagon Alley, then brought him back to the rooms he’d reserved at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had taken the one suite the old inn had to offer, and Severus had done his best to not show how pathetically grateful he’d been for the place to sleep that night. He’d believed that he would be convicted, and had made no plans for a place to go after the trial.

The next morning, Harry was gone, but he’d left a large breakfast and a note from Albus in the suite’s sitting room for Severus. The note had contained a Gringott’s vault key and a letter, written in the shaky hand Albus had been reduced to after his hand had been blasted by the damned Horcrux ring. Severus had disgraced himself completely by breaking down into tears at the kind words from his oldest true friend.

After that, he’d set up the Flying Bee Apothecary with some of the money in the vault. Much to his surprise, Harry came to shop there from the very beginning. He’d never made much of his visits, always timing his shopping expeditions for the busiest time of the day, but Severus had noticed him every time. Severus also noticed the Prophet articles stridently asking why the Savior of the Wizarding World shopped at the Death Eater Traitor’s shop. Harry’s quiet response that the potions from the Flying Bee were the best quality was ignored by the shrieking poisonous snakes working for the Prophet.

Some time after the second series of articles about it, Harry showed up at the apothecary door just at closing time. Severus was locking the door behind him, adding several layers of protective charms to the front of the shop when Harry’s voice came from over his shoulder.

“Are you really that paranoid, or have there actually been Erumpent attacks in the neighborhood?” He’d sounded amused, and Severus swung around, angry.

“No, but some delinquents, who probably believe they’re saving the world from the evil Traitor, have thrown Erumpent horn essence at my door.” He glared at Harry, wishing he didn’t feel so off kilter every time he saw the boy now, wishing he knew what to do with the emotions the boy pulled, all unwilling, out of him.

“Ah,” said Harry, still in that amused tone. His eyes sparkled in the low light from the surrounding shop fronts, until a turn of his head made his glasses reflect flat circles at Severus. For one second, he truly resembled his father, and Severus froze, aware of the open space at his back, the precariousness of his situation. Then Harry laughed lightly, and said, “So, I thought we could go for dinner. Aren’t you hungry?”

Severus stared at him, uncertain. Harry cocked his head, looking open and confused.

“There’s a new Indian place in Muggle London,” he said, “and I’ve been waiting for a chance to try it.” He stepped closer to Severus, his hair, now just past his shoulders, shifting in the slight evening breeze.

Severus opened his mouth, excuses and refusals fighting to be first on his tongue, when the soft, “Yes,” that slipped out stunned him. Something passed over Harry’s face then, some complex expression, but Severus was too startled by his traitorous mouth to fully catch the implications.

That first dinner, awkward and careful, had been followed by lunches in Diagon on weekends, and slowly they began to meet—first weekly, then several times a week. Harry always had lots of news to report about his friends, and the work they were doing in the Auror’s Department, and he seemed amused by Severus’ continual disparaging comments about those people’s activities. He also appeared to listen with interest whenever Severus discussed the things that had happened at the shop or in his workshop since the last time the two of them had eaten together.

Almost a year after their first meal, which Severus’ unrepentant inner voice, which sounded distressingly like Albus on one of his most sugary days, insisted on calling their ‘anniversary’, Severus went to Harry’s house for dinner. He’d been taken aback to find that he wasn’t the only guest. Harry had failed to inform him that the rest of his group of friends had been invited, and that it was, in fact, a dinner party. Severus nearly left before even knocking on the door but Harry threw open the door before he had a chance to Apparate away and grinned up at him.

“You can’t leave, old man,” he chirped, “there’s got to be someone to challenge Ron at chess, you know.” Harry grabbed his arm and dragged him in, oblivious to Severus’ shock at the physical contact. He’d spent the first hour in a daze, repeatedly finding his right hand resting on his left forearm where the boy had touched him. No one had ever touched him gently in years, and never had anyone touched him there. It had taken a humiliating trouncing by the Weasley boy to bring him back to himself.

He sucked in a deep breath of the icy air, and picked his plate up again, ready to go back into the overfilled Ball Room. However, the sound of voices just on the other side of the heavy drapes across the balcony door stopped him. It was Ginny Weasley, Harry and the newly married Weasleys. He drew closer to the drapes, head tilted to listen.

“You know,” Ginny said, “you could try something easier.” Her voice was amused and forbearing, as if this were a conversation they’d had several times.

Harry’s voice sounded similar, “But then it wouldn’t be so worthwhile. I’d rather wait this one out, see if I can get it on my own.”

“Oh, Harry,” sighed Hermione. “You’ve waited for years. Don’t you think it’s time to give up? I mean, there’s been no indication of any return interest. For all you know, he is only spending time with you because he wants the public protection.”

Ron snorted. “As if he needs protection from anyone, Hermione. He’s a right snake, that one.” Somebody must have hit him, because he yelped, and said, “I mean that in a nice way, really. He’ll turn up fine, no matter what happens. He’s a survivor.”

Harry laughed, and Severus saw the drapes move as the group shifted. “He is that.” His voice was admiring, rich with praise. Severus found himself envying the man who Harry respected this much. “I just wish…”

“You just wish he’d join the ranks of your adoring fans and send you his pants.” Ron chuckled. Harry’s burst of laughter faded as Severus took two sharp steps back from the doorway, the conversation suddenly making a different sort of sense to him.

Harry, his Harry, was interested in men, and not only that, he was interested in one man in particular. He’d seen fit to share that information with all of his friends, clearly; all of them except Severus himself. Trying not to allow his dismay at being cut out of this part of Harry’s life, he struggled to compose himself. _After all,_ he thought desperately, _do I tell him about my hopeless desire for—he has every right to keep these things private from me._ Carefully approaching the doorway again, he listened closely for any sounds, then slipped through the draperies.

As he looked over the room, not admitting, even to himself, that he was looking for Harry first, and it’s always been Harry first, hasn’t it? came Albus’ cheery voice in his head, his eyes caught on the long horsetail of hair that Harry’d grown. He sucked in a horrified breath as he saw just with whom Harry was dancing. _I should have expected this_ , he thought, trying to pull his eyes away from the sight, _it makes sense. Ron Weasley did say the man Harry was interested in was a snake._

In the crowd gyrating on the dance floor, Harry’s dark head moved in tandem with the bright silvery strands of Draco Malfoy’s.

Feeling sick at heart, Severus handed his still full plate off to one of the Ministry catering staff and moved around the edge of the room towards the door. He’d almost made it - the overly ornate, elaborately carved doors to the Ball Room loomed in front of him, opening as if in sympathy for his desperate rush towards them, his need to be safe in his home. Just as he passed through them, into the welcoming darkness of the corridor outside, he heard his name called.

He almost didn’t stop, but Harry called again, and he felt himself pulled to a stop almost against his will. He didn’t turn, though, couldn’t make himself face the sight of Harry right now. He clenched his fists and sucked in as deep a breath as he could hold. Then he straightened his back and made himself turn around. _I will not be made a coward now._

Harry stood in the doorway, the bright lights of the Ball Room sparkling behind him, shimmering on his hair and glinting off his glasses. Over his shoulder, Severus could see Draco standing, hands buried in the pockets of his robes, chatting with Ginny Weasley.

“Severus?” Harry sounded concerned. “You haven’t danced at all. Are you leaving now?”

Severus clamped his jaw shut against the vitriolic response that leapt to his lips. He knew Harry well enough now to know that anger or sarcasm at this point would only make the idiot more determined to know what wasn’t any of his business anyway.

“Yes, I am leaving. I—there is nothing here that I have any interest in.”

“Oh.” Harry had no right to look so crestfallen at that, when he had everything he could want, the man that apparently he’d wanted for years, waiting for him just inside the room. “I just thought, you know, that you haven’t danced at one of these things, did you know?”

Severus hadn’t been paying attention to that. He’d been paying attention to something completely worthless, something that was clearly a waste of his time. “No. I did not know.” He looked away from Harry’s face, inspecting the doors’ ornamentation. Clearly whoever had cast the carving charms was unhealthily interested in fruit. He could see more grapes and peaches and apples on the door than inside the Ball Room on the buffet tables.

“Don’t you like the music?” Harry left the doorway and walked closer to Severus. “Or is it that there’s no one you want to dance with?” He’d come close enough for Severus to smell his cologne, something sharp and spicy. He breathed in slowly.

“Or maybe it’s that I choose not to dance at all. Did it occur to you that some people simply don’t like to participate in the insipid gyrations and disgusting displays of sexuality prevalent on the dance floor?” Severus found himself taking refuge in his vocabulary, a sure sign to himself that he was barely hanging onto control of his temper.

Harry was silent for a moment, looking back into the Ball Room at the bright colors and the dancers. “Maybe people would like to dance with you.”

To his surprise, he chuckled. “Now I know you’ve had too much of the punch.” The two of them stood, quietly watching the other attendees. As they watched, Draco danced by, holding Ginny quite closely.

Severus stiffened, angry on Harry’s behalf. He glanced down, hoping that the other man hadn’t seen, but Harry’s eyes were closed and his shoulders slumped.

“He’s not worth it, you know,” he offered quietly. “He’s not worthy of—“ he broke off, horrified at what he had nearly admitted.

Harry tipped his head up to look at him. “He, who?” He looked confused. “Who’s not worth what?”

“The man you are so interested in.” Severus took a deep breath. _I can do this, save him, one last time._ “I know you’ve been interested in him for years, but he just isn’t worth it. He will not be helpful to you in your work at the Bureau of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Harry was looking at him in bafflement now. “You—you know who I’m interested in?” He seemed almost horrorstruck, and Severus wondered if it was more of a secret than he’d thought from the conversation he’d overheard.

“You are a very talented young man, Potter, and you should be looking for someone, a partner, with whom you are well matched. I am sorry to say that the person you’ve chosen is not worthy of a wizard of your calibre.”

Harry’s eyes blazed with emotion, and Severus was reminded of exactly how powerful the young man facing him truly was. He knew that Harry usually tried to downplay his magical strength, but when he was angry it often slipped out.

“You are going to tell me that the person I’ve fallen in love with, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with isn’t worthy of me? You have no idea how worthy he is, how much he’s been through.” Harry’s voice had dropped to a harsh whisper; echoes of it came back from further down the corridor.

Severus took a step back, trying to think of a way to calm Harry down. If he moved them further down the corridor, away from the open door, he could at least make sure that they had this fight in some sort of privacy.

“No,” he said, as he backed up a little more, “I’m not trying to tell you that he hasn’t gone through some difficulties, but—“

“Difficulties?” Harry stopped and stared at him, eyes wide and face stunned. “Is that what you call it? Difficulties? That man has lived through worse things than any one I know and still he manages to survive and thrive. He’s helped me in more ways than I can list, given me more than anyone else in my life has and you think he’s not worthy?”

Severus stopped backing up, and felt his temper shredding. If Harry really thought that Draco sodding Malfoy had lived through anything other than a little discomfort, he was seriously deluding himself. “Draco Malfoy has not lived through—“

He was interrupted by a sudden splutter of laughter from Harry. “Draco? You think I’m in love with _Draco?_ ” He began to laugh, great whoops of sound and humor until he staggered and had to lean over to catch his breath. “Oh! Oh. I’ll have to tell him that. He’ll just die.” He burst into laughter again, and walked up to Severus. “No, you great, thick, idiotic man. I’m not in love with Draco.” Harry smiled up at him and carefully wrapped his arms around Severus’ neck. “I’m in love with you.”

Severus felt his knees go out from under him, and he fell backwards against the wall.

“Whoops,” Harry laughed, in his ear, as he fell forwards onto Severus’ chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown that at you, should I?” He looked up into Severus’ face, his eyes concerned. “Are you okay? I hope I’m not, ah, overstepping my bounds.”

Severus put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and shoved him away, refusing to admit how cold his chest felt after even just the one moment of contact between the two of them. “You do not mean what you are saying, Potter,” he snapped, his uneven temper re-asserting itself. “I had thought that we had gone further into our…friendship than this. It is beyond unacceptable for you to mock me in this manner.” He stood, back against the wall, arms tight across his chest, wishing he were anywhere else, wishing that he’d been able to make it out of the Ball Room without being seen. At least then he wouldn’t have to stand here in this public corridor and see the dashing of all his deepest, most heartfelt hopes.

“Severus?” Harry stepped closer, his head tipped to the side. “I would never mock you, not about something this serious. I’ve been in love with you for years.” His eyes fell, finally, and Severus felt as if he’d been released from a Binding Hex. “I always believed that you’d never care for me, not the way I care for you, but—“ his hands were twisted tightly together and he moved another slow step towards Severus, “but, if you care about who I’m partnered with, then you must care about me, right?” His head swung back up to Severus’, his eyes pleading and hopeful.

Severus found he couldn’t resist the mute appeal pouring from those green eyes, now wide with entreaty. He opened his arms and Harry launched himself into them, burrowing into his chest in a way that made Severus almost believe Harry’s unexpected declaration. After a long, quiet moment, Harry tipped his head back and looked hopefully up at Severus.

“Won’t you at least try being with me?” His voice was plaintive and small, and Severus gave in to the passionate desires of his heart and body.

He gasped in a lungful of air and wrapped his arms tightly around his Harry. “I’ll make you mine instead,” he whispered as he lowered his face to Harry’s. Then there was nothing but warmth and lips and joy.

Uncountable minutes later, he pulled back, and watched as Harry’s face shifted from languorous to amused. “You were trying to save me again, weren’t you?” At his nod, Harry leaned up and planted several small, gentle kisses on his lips, sprinkling them over the corners and his swollen lower lip. “You’re my hero, you know.”

Severus shook his head. “No one will ever believe that. I’m much better cast as the villain, sweeping you off to my secluded home to have my wicked way with you.”

Harry laughed, bright and full of life. “We’d better go see to that, then. I’d hate to stand in the way of a good nefarious plan.”

 _fin_


End file.
